


It All Feels the Same

by hyacinth (Lexa_Alycia)



Series: Nothing Left Unsaid [1]
Category: The Owl House (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Dramedy, F/F, Gen, Humor, Pre-Season/Series 01, skara rights, witch drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 01:00:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29269908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lexa_Alycia/pseuds/hyacinth
Summary: Amity Blight, Hexside's top student and captain of the grudgby team, has a reputation for being calm, cool, and collected. But behind that mask lies a desire for connection, something beyond reach.
Relationships: Amity Blight & Boscha, Amity Blight & Boscha & Skara, Amity Blight & Skara, Boscha & Skara
Series: Nothing Left Unsaid [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2112849
Comments: 28
Kudos: 58





	It All Feels the Same

**Author's Note:**

> Set roughly one year before the events of S1 EP 15: Understanding Willow. Title from this [song](https://open.spotify.com/track/49CWtYHMvrEjmBMO75uTYv?si=ytn_jKv-QPemLagpHDv84g) by Tennis. Art by [Shahsu](https://twitter.com/Shahsu19). Thanks as always to [Theatrical72](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theatrical72/pseuds/Theatrical72) for beta reading. And thanks to [SilverWolfPen](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverWolfPen/pseuds/SilverWolfPen), [RainbowBuddy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RainbowBuddy/pseuds/RainbowBuddy), and [AtticusKaine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AtticusKaine/pseuds/AtticusKaine) for helping me rework a bit of the chap. They all have great fics which y'all should check out. Enjoy!

Of all the ways Amity could’ve anticipated waking up, skull creepers never crossed her mind.

And for good reason. They were only found deep in the twisted woods of the Boiling Isles. One had to look hard to find them, as they lived in underground burrows and kept to themselves for the most part. So how Edric and Emira had managed to get their hands on an entire nest, she would never know.

She jumped out of bed, screaming bloody murder as the creepers swarmed her. She batted them off her arms and legs, summoning an abomination in between hissed profanities to get rid of them. Her abomination dutifully gathered as many of the creatures as it could and vaulted out of her open window, splattering onto the ground below and killing the creepers with it. 

Amity eyed the remaining creepers in her room with utter disdain. Her fingers twitched, itching to draw a spell circle and incinerate them - but she hadn’t gotten the hang of the fire spell yet. So she snatched her training wand from her desk and used it to conjure hot pink flames. Her eyes narrowed, the fire illuminating the maniacal grin that pulled at the corners of her lips.

“Burn.”

A few scorch marks and sufficiently crisped critters later, Amity stepped out of her room. 

She was drenched in sweat from the heat of the fire she had summoned, and having to fend off so many pests under duress. Her cotton pajamas were splattered with creeper blood, but she paid it no mind. She had places to be, people to see. A plan, if you will. 

Which began with finding the twins, and killing them.

She stormed down the hallway, navigating the twists and turns of Blight Manor quickly. She muttered promises of revenge under her breath, and contemplated experimenting with a flaming abomination before she finally found herself in front of her siblings’ bedrooms. Their doors were right next to each other, Edric’s marred by scratches and unidentifiable stains while Emira’s was spotless, save for a golden E engraved on the wood. 

Amity kicked open Edric’s door first. He was always the last out of bed, persuaded to leave the warm bed sheets only by the mouth watering breakfast their chefs prepared on a daily basis. She scowled upon seeing an unmade bed, dirty clothes scattered across the floor, and an empty room.

Amity knew Emira was probably gone too, but it didn’t hurt to check. She threw the door open, and sure enough her older sister was nowhere to be found. Amity clenched her hands into fists and took a few deep breaths to collect her thoughts and plan her next course of action.

She placed a finger to her lips and began pacing back and forth in front of the twins’ bedrooms. She knew right away pranking them back wouldn’t work. Amity was outnumbered and outskilled on that front. No, she would have to think outside of the box, and do something they couldn’t retaliate against. Maybe-

“Amity.”

Amity was interrupted from her train of thought by a stern, achingly familiar voice calling her name, and snapped to attention immediately.

“Yes?” She kept her voice level, arms ramrod straight at her sides.

“What are those hideous stains on your nightwear?” Odalia tutted disapprovingly. “And why are you out of bed unchanged? I thought I raised you better than that.”

Amity bit her tongue with a retort that would bring her nothing but pain, and replied sweetly.

“I’m sorry mom,” She folded her arms in front of her to cover the worst of the stains. “I will change right away.”

Odalia nodded.

“Good. I do not wish to see you in a similar state again,” She walked down the hallway towards Amity, and paused as she passed her daughter. “Today is young Skara’s birthday. I need you to be on your best behavior. Nothing like the debacle from last year. Understand?”

It was phrased as a question, but Amity knew it was a demand. One that could not be ignored.

“Understood.”

Odalia nodded and continued down the hall, heels clicking loudly against the hardwood floor. Amity felt a weight lift from her shoulders as her mother rounded the corner and disappeared from sight. She sighed, and gave Edric and Emira’s rooms one last glare before returning to her bedroom. 

Revenge would have to wait for another day. For now, she needed to prepare for tonight. 

\---- ---- ----

Amity smoothed the wrinkles of her emerald green suit, adjusting the collar one last time before she looked over her makeup. She had carefully applied dark gold eyeshadow, making her amber eyes pop. To finish the look, she wore light pink lipstick and faint blush that accentuated her jawline. 

Amity stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was freshly dyed green - just a few days ago her mother had pulled her aside and scolded her for the prominent auburn brown streaks through her hair. Amity suggested letting them grow out, only to be berated for suggesting such a ludicrous thing (her mother’s words, not hers).

She should have known better by now. She never got what she wanted, no thanks to her mother’s impossible standards and her father’s perpetual absence from the household. 

Amity wasn’t happy. But she wasn’t sad either. Rather her attitude was one of resigned acceptance. Of the distance between her and her siblings. Of her father’s interest in her not as a person, but in her potential as a witch - following in his footsteps in lead the Abomination coven or to rise above and join the Emperor’s Coven. And of her mother’s desire to mold her into someone whose sole purpose would be to uphold the family name.

There was no use in fighting the forces that dictated her life. She had learned, the hard way, what happened if she protested.

Amity’s eyes shifted away from the mirror and landed on a picture frame sitting on her dresser. It was a photo of her and Willow at Lake Lacuna, after their first swim lesson. Both girls had been drenched in icy cold water and were shivering violently, but no one would’ve ever been able to tell by the exuberant smiles on their faces. Willow’s arms were wrapped around her friend, glasses laid askew, and Amity’s head was thrown back in laughter.

Amity’s eyes darted away from the frame, her heart tightening uncomfortably as memories from years ago flooded her mind. She didn’t know why she kept the photo in sight. Maybe it was a reminder to herself of the pain she had caused her old friend, a lesson learned in where seeking selfish desires inevitably led her. Or perhaps it was a reminder of better, happier times - which made her hope (foolishly so) that maybe, just maybe, the future held better things than her current reality.

Amity scowled at the pained expression that had fallen across her features, and instantly corrected it. She smoothed over furrowed eyebrows and her lips pressed into a thin line, her face became neutral once more. It would be no good to show anyone the emotions laying under the surface. Particularly, of the guilt she harbored from her forced split from Willow. 

Emotions made one vulnerable to threat and ridicule. And she could not bear to expose herself to anyone, especially her mother, who would be furious she still thought of her old friend. Emotions opened oneself up to pain, and Amity had enough of that. It was better to put on a mask of indifference, distance herself from others and play the game she was forced to, never revealing the cards she held.

She nodded at her reflection in the mirror and took the wrapped gift she had bought for Skara the previous day with her out the door. 

Purchasing the gift hadn’t required much thought. Skara was in the Bard track, and somewhat of a music prodigy. Amity was initially going to buy her the latest album from the band she blasted incessantly during their hangouts (where Amity stared off into the distance from her windowsill as the others exchanged mindless gossip) but she found something far more suitable.

Something more appropriate for a witch of her standing, as her parents would put it.

Amity reached the bottom of the stairwell and crossed the living room to reach the front door. If she was lucky, she wouldn’t run into-

“Amity, darling, where are you off to in such a hurry?”

Amity froze, before relaxing (only slightly) upon recognizing the voice. She turned around swiftly, plastering on a surprised expression.

“Hi dad. I didn’t expect to see you home so soon.”

Alador Blight laced his fingers together, settling comfortably back in the armchair he was seated in. 

“Matters at work were resolved without my assistance,” He replied. “For once,” Alador added as a bitter afterthought.

“I’m off to Skara’s birthday party,” Amity raised the gift in the air. “I purchased a Bard scroll that contains sheet music for a new spell that hasn’t been covered in her courses.”

“Good,” He nodded approvingly. “An ideal gift for a witch of her standing.”

Amity wanted to roll her eyes at the recycled phrase, but kept her face blank. She tucked the gift back under her arm.

“If there isn’t anything else, I’ll be going now.”

Alador had already looked away, his eyes scanning the pages of the report he was reviewing. Even if he was home, the work never stopped. Holding back a sigh, Amity turned and made her way to the door. She opened and closed the door shut behind her softly, glancing up to see the afternoon sun high in the sky.

There were a few puffy clouds in the sky, and a crow screamed in agony as a sparrowhawk snatched it out of the air, swallowing it in one fell swoop. Amity watched as the sparrowhawk screeched in victory, only to be batted to the ground by a hungry griffin. 

Not wanting to be late, she took off towards Skara’s home, the loud cries of the sparrowhawk the only sound for acres. It was a beautiful summer day. And she would have to spend it indoors, in a place that somehow managed to rival the suffocating atmosphere of Blight Manor.

\---- ---- ----

“Amity! Welcome!” Skara took the gift from her hands and moved aside so that she could enter the house. “You’re right on time, we were about to serve lunch.”

At the mention of food, Amity felt her stomach growl. Oh, right. She had forgotten to eat breakfast. Again.

“Happy birthday,” Amity said, more out of having nothing substantive to say than anything else.

Skara beamed.

“Thanks!” She turned and made her way across the foyer to the dining room, Amity following her without another word, eager to fill her empty stomach. 

Skara opened the door and announced her arrival with far more gusto Amity would’ve liked.

“Guess who finally decided to show up?” Skara called out, moving into the room and making a beeline for the head of the table. 

On the way she was pulled aside by Bo, and the two witches launched into a conversation Amity tuned out almost immediately. A few other witches turned their attention to Amity, but quickly returned to their individual conversations. Boscha was seated at the end of the table, and didn’t even bother looking up from her scroll.

“Is it Amelia?” She snorted to herself. “Nah, there’s no way she could ever get anywhere before 5pm. That witch sleeps like a dead slitherbeast.”

“Hello to you too, Boscha,” Amity replied sardonically as she took her place across from the triclops at the table.

Boscha glanced up and grinned upon seeing Amity.

“Oh would you look at that! The princess herself has finally decided to grace us with her presence.”

“I’m on time,” Amity deadpanned.

Boscha raised two eyebrows.

“Oh please,” She waved a hand in the air. “You know how Skara is, all ‘On time is late!’” Boscha mimicked in a squeaky voice. Her face soured. “She had me here two hours ago because she wanted help putting the final touch on the decorations.”

“And you came, willingly?” Amity was baffled. Boscha never did anything for anyone unless it suited her. 

Boscha shrugged, turning back to her scroll.

“First dibs on snacks.”

“Sure,” Amity answered, unconvinced.

After wrapping up what must have been a riveting conversation with Bo, Skara finally took her seat at the head of the table. She reached for a glass and drew a spell circle, a red aura covering it from top to bottom. She tapped a fork to the glass, and a sharp cling echoed over the room, drawing the attention of all who were present. As she spoke, the glass amplified her voice.

“Welcome everyone. I would first like to thank you all for being here, and making my birthday even more special.”

Amity was surprised to see Boscha put down her scroll and turn her attention to Skara as she continued her speech. That was a first. She usually tuned out these kinds of formalities, commonplace at the balls and galas they often frequented, her nose glued to her scroll unless she wanted to exchange snarky banter or eat.

“Lunch is laid out on the table,” Skara pointed across the room. “Deserts and refreshments are on the end. There’s plenty to go around, so please don’t hesitate to dig in!”

Scraping of chairs and clattering of plates could be heard as witches stood up to get food. Amity and Boscha dutifully remained at Skara’s side. As the host, she would be the last to serve herself, and they would wait with her. 

Skara thanked Boscha again for coming early, to which the triclops scoffed and insisted it was nothing. As they exchanged conversation, Amity’s eyes drifted around the room. There were red streamers hanging from the ceiling, balloons of the same color in every corner of the room. It wasn’t much, but Amity suspected the ballroom would be much more lavishly decorated. 

“What do you think, Amity?”

Amity was snapped out of her reverie and turned back to Skara, who had asked her a question she missed. This happened more often than she cared to admit, so she was prepared for it. She answered with her usual response, one that required the least amount of effort and dispelled potential conflict.

“I agree.”

Skara smiled wide, and then shot Boscha a triumphant look.

“See! I told you!”

Boscha narrowed her eyes at Amity.

“I thought you were gay.”

For once, Amity lost her composure.

“Wh- I am!” She shook her head, trying to pull her thoughts together. “Wait- how did you even know that?” 

“I saw the way you checked out those St. Epiderm girls at our last game,” Boscha smirked. “If you’re not gay, then I’m Bump’s best pal.”

Everyone knew Boscha hated Bump, ever since he cancelled one of their grudgeby games citing safety hazards (there had been a demogorgon on the loose, not that she cared). 

Amity bit back a retort and instead leveled Boscha with a look that would’ve killed anyone else on the spot, but the triclops seemed to bask in it, never losing her shit eating grin.

Skara, well used to their ‘friendly’ banter, only cocked her head in confusion.

“Then why did you say you agreed with me when I was talking about how cute Chadley is?”

Amity relaxed, finally understanding the conversation she had been roped into. She didn’t have the faintest idea who this Chadley was (what kind of absurd name was that?), but now she knew what move to make next.

“I have two eyes,” She crossed her arms. “And noting that someone may be... physically attractive doesn’t equate to romantic attraction.”

“I don’t buy it,” Boscha sneered. “That witch has a face only a mother could love.”

“Oh, is that statement based on personal experience?” Amity quipped. “How are your moms Boscha?” She rested her chin on a hand. “Doing well, I hope.”

Before the conversation could take a turn for the worse, Skara intervened.

“Boscha,” Skara said in a warning tone. “Be nice. And Amity, there’s no need for that. We’re all friends here.”

Amity expected Boscha to snap at her and then tell Skara to shove off, but she was surprised yet again.

“Fine,” Boscha huffed. “But don’t get ahead of yourself. I will only tolerate your nauseating talk of _him_ today.”

Skara rubbed her temples, while Boscha’s tactlessness could be difficult to deal with, this was far better than she expected. She glanced up and saw that everyone else was eating. She jumped out of her seat.

“Finally! I’ve been waiting hours to eat.”

Boscha and Amity trailed after her silently. Amity could tell that Boscha was in a poor mood - something she had learned to pick up on so she could better maneuver around social interactions. And while she didn’t care much for whoever Skara was infatuated with, it would be useful to file this information away for later. 

They returned to their seats and dug into their food. Skara and Amity ate slowly and delicately, but Boscha threw table manners out the window and wolfed down her meal. This would never stand if any of their parents were around, but Skara had managed to get her parents to agree to an informal gathering, friends and family only. 

Sure, everyone was dressed to the nines in tuxedos and dresses, and would have to dance as tradition dictated later on in the evening, but- details.

Once everyone finished lunch, and empty plates were whisked away, lively chatter filled the room once more. Skara and Boscha had moved away to catch up with other friends, but Amity remained in her seat. She was content to spend the duration of the party scrolling Penstagram and searching Witchipedia for obscure historical facts (her favorite pastimes, second only to reading fantasy novels with convoluted backstories).

Amity could put on a show and socialize when need be, but she preferred not to. As easy as it was to fall into the facade, it was draining on the psyche. She would rather be elsewhere, like in her bedroom rereading _The Good Witch Azura_ for the umpteenth time. Or filling another page of her diary with thoughts that would never see the light of day.

She was reading a page on Abomination magic, and cross-coven collaboration with the Construction coven to build the homes of Bonesborough when an unfamiliar voice interrupted her peace and quiet.

“Is this seat taken?”

Amity looked up and saw a witch wearing an elegant red dress and black heels. She had long dark brown hair styled into waves, and freckles dotting her pale complexion. She wore what Amity guessed was supposed to be a charming smile, and it may have worked on her if she wasn’t so damn tired of being here (and if she hadn’t already seen that same smile plastered on every stranger who approached her at social gatherings).

As badly as she wanted to say yes, and make the other witch leave, she was raised to be polite and courteous. Her mother would not be pleased if she did something to mar the Blight family’s standing, again. Last year’s debacle, as her mother eloquently put it, involved Amity publicly humiliating a witch who kept pestering her and refused to leave her be. A verbal smackdown in front of the other guests seemed to do the trick - which she normally would’ve never resorted to, since discretion was her usual go to, but the witch needed to be taught a lesson in manners.

The only thing Amity failed to take into account was how the witch was the son of one of Odalia’s close associates, who worked at the Emperor’s Coven, which made her return to Blight Manor that night an unpleasant one.

“No.”

Amity redirected her attention back to her scroll, hoping the witch would take the hint and say nothing else to her. 

Unfortunately, the Titan wasn’t on her side tonight.

The witch sat down next to Amity, scooting far closer than Amity felt comfortable, and propped her chin up with one hand as she leaned an elbow on the table.

“The name’s Prudelphina Phrenemay,” She flipped her hair over a shoulder, as if she was acting in a poorly produced teen drama. “You may have heard of my family. We’re known for our affinity in Oracle magic manipulation,” She leaned in close, and Amity’s nose curled as the unpleasant scent of runions infiltrated her nose. “I believe our mothers work together at the coven.”

Amity wanted to sink into a hole in the ground, and never come out. There was no way she was getting out of a conversation with Prude-whatever the fuck her name was. Not with her mother’s wrath on the horizon if she managed to offend the witch in front of her.

“I see,” Amity nodded, spelling away her scroll. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

It wasn’t. 

The not so charming smile on Prudelphina’s face widened.

“Likewise,” She leaned back and took a grape from a tray of appetizers on the table. Thankfully, she chewed and swallowed before speaking. “So, why are you here all by yourself when everyone else is socializing and playing party games?”

Amity suppressed the urge to scream as spit landed on her face, gritting her teeth as she forced a smile.

“Just taking a break from the festivities,” She discreetly pocketed a napkin to use as soon as she got away from Prudelphina. 

Prudelphina laughed, squeaky and airy. The sound grated on Amity’s ears.

“Oh c’mon, you can be honest with me. You haven’t moved from this spot all afternoon,” She laced her fingers together, leaning back into her seat, _thank Titan_. “What’s up with you, Blight?”

Amity disliked the witch the moment she began speaking to her, unprompted, but the casual tone that implied that they were friends (they were not, and never would be) infuriated her to no end. She knew this Prude-whatever was only speaking to her out of a sense of obligation to her mother, or worse, to try and get in with her family.

She had to end her friendship with Willow because her childhood friend wasn’t deemed good enough in her parents’ eyes. But every witch Amity met since then who would be deemed perfectly acceptable to her parents seemed to cement the fact that they were wrong. Willow was a true friend - kind, reliable and trustworthy. Always there, through thick and thin. Now Amity was surrounded by no one but snakes, waiting until her guard was down to strike.

She would never give them the chance, not if she could help it.

“I’m not feeling well, I will likely be heading home after the dance,” Amity paused. “I may have caught witch fever from my brother, though I’m not too sure. That’s another reason I’ve been staying away from everyone,” She pulled a smile, as much as it pained her to do so. “After all, it is highly contagious.”

The bewildered look on Prudelphina’s face made the lie all the more sweet. 

“I- I see,” Her face paled. “Well, it doesn’t hurt to be careful then! I think Cat is looking for me, so I best be going now!”

Amity didn’t even have a chance to say goodbye with how quickly Prudelphina sprung up out of her seat and took off to the other end of the room (not that she minded).

She smirked to herself as she watched the witch nearly bowl over Amelia, who stumbled into the room looking like she just rolled out of bed. After wiping her face, she summoned her scroll again and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear as she settled in for the evening.

\---- ---- ----

“It’s time for the gift unraveling!” Skara announced over the chatter of witches, this time using a simple sound amplification spell to get her point across. “Please gather in the ballroom, as the traditional waltz will follow.”

Amity rose to her feet and stretched, rolling out the kink in her neck that had formed from peering down at her scroll all afternoon. She had avoided socializing for most of the party, but she knew if she didn’t make an effort now, word would somehow get back to her mother. After vanishing away her scroll, she made her way across the dining room, where she joined a steady stream of witches filtering into the ballroom.

The Jubal ballroom was similar to the one back at Blight Manor. A sparkling crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, casting red lighting everywhere. Illusion magic was spread throughout the room, taking on various forms - from twinkling stars to music notes for extra flair. Like the dining room, streamers and balloons were placed strategically along the walls. What stood out was a grand piano placed in the corner of the room, next to the dance floor. 

Amity knew firsthand how Skara’s parents routinely had her perform in front of guests they were entertaining. And since it was her birthday, Skara would likely play something as a way of thanks to everyone attending her party. 

If Amity had one thing in common with the witch, it was dedication to a craft. When Skara wasn’t doing schoolwork or spending time with friends, she was perfecting her Bard magic. She had learned several instruments, along with the complex spellwork necessary to play more than one at once. 

Some Bard witches settled for having the magic do the heavy lifting, but Skara took time out of her day to learn the instruments without use of any magic, adding it as a supplement only later. Amity doled out respect in small doses, and Skara had earned her fair share of it.

(In case you were wondering, Amity did not hold an ounce of respect for Boscha. Not her unbalanced temperament, coupled with piss-poor attitude about, well, everything. Everything she wanted was handed to her on a golden platter - by her doting mothers who stumbled over themselves to spoil their only child rotten). 

Amity made her way over to the gift table, where Skara was standing. There was a small mountain of presents piled onto the table, and as per tradition in the Jubal family, Skara would choose five to unwrap. Why five? Amity didn’t have the faintest idea. She likely tuned out Skara when she explained it way back when.

Skara would insist she chose the gifts randomly, but Amity suspected otherwise. Skara saw who brought in what gifts, and likely remembered so that she could refrain from having to thank some witch she hardly knew. Another caveat to the gift unwrapping was that Skara would choose her favorite present and share the first dance of the night with the lucky witch.

In previous years, Skara had danced with various members of their inner circle. Bo, Cat, Amelia, and even Amity herself. Strangely enough, the past two years Skara chose Boscha to dance with. Amity found this to be particularly odd because Boscha’s gifts were never anything special, in her mind at least. She had figured that since Boscha was her closest friend, Skara had unconsciously favored her over her other friends. Simple as that. 

But Boscha’s out of character behavior tonight was starting to have her think otherwise.

Amity observed Boscha, who was leaning against a nearby pillar wearing a sour look on her face. Nothing out of the ordinary. Then she noticed what, or rather who, Boscha was aiming her scowl towards. 

A familiar witch with blonde hair slicked back and dark skin, wearing a black suit with an orange tie. What was most notable were his ears, which were batlike in nature. Amity wracked her brain trying to remember where she had seen him before, and then recalled Skara handing him an invitation to her party during lunchtime last week. He studied Beastkeeping at Hexside, not the most reputable track by any means, but his family still had a respectable social standing. 

Judging by the way Boscha was glaring daggers at him, and the passing glances Skara sneaked as she went through the gift pile, this must be the same Chadley she held affections for.

Not having anything else better to do, Amity found herself wondering what Chadley had done to earn Boscha’s hostility. Sure, she wasn’t the friendliest witch even when she was in a good mood, but it was odd how rather than gossip with Skara on her newfound crush, she went out of her way to disparage him.

Unless...

Amity wanted to laugh. There was no way Boscha was jealous of- 

Wait.

Actually, now that the thought had crossed her mind, it made perfect sense. Boscha could be ridiculously petty, especially if she didn’t get her way. So to have her best friend stolen away by some boy that’d come out of nowhere would surely peeve her. Boscha and Skara had known each other since the womb, or at least that’s how Skara jokingly put it. Boscha would brush it off and credit their parents being longtime friends, but Amity knew that they stuck to each other like glue. No matter what role their parents played in bringing them together, their friendship was real.

When Amity was forced to become friends with them years ago, it had been incredibly hard to earn their trust. Or, at the very least Boscha’s. The triclops had been suspicious of Amity suddenly going out of her way to hang out with them, and Skara followed her lead. Amity eventually managed to earn their trust, but not without paying the price for it.

\---- ---- ----

_A crowded hallway. Sleeves of every track flashed by in a blur of colors as Amity’s eyes scanned her surroundings, looking for two witches. Eventually, she found them chatting in front of an open locker, Skara was putting away her books as Boscha leaned against the wall, telling her some joke by the way Skara burst out laughing._

_The scream of the school bell echoed in Amity’s ears as she took a deep breath, mentally preparing herself for the task that lay ahead. She took one step, and then another. Before she knew it, she was in front of them._

_“Hi.”_

_Skara and Boscha turned around, eyes widening in surprise at the sight of Amity. Boscha cocked her head questioningly._

_“What do you want?” Her eyes narrowed. “Oh, don’t tell me. Your parents have another gala?” Boscha groaned. “They are so boring!”_

_Skara giggled, and Amity suppressed the urge to turn and leave. Find Willow. Apologize for everything she said at her birthday party two weeks ago. Tell her she didn’t mean any of it, and beg her to forgive her. But her father’s words rang loud and clear in her head, preventing her from doing what she wanted so badly._

**_Blights only associate with the strongest of witchlings._ **

_Amity dug her fingernails into her palms, and forced a smile (the first of many)._

_“I was wondering if we could hang out after school,” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “We could draw, play hide-and-scry, or-”_

_“What are you, a baby?” Boscha scoffed. “None of those things sound like any fun at all.”_

_Amity’s throat dried up. She had done all those things with Willow, and had the time of her life._

_“We already have plans,” Skara cut in. “My parents finally got me Guitar Demon so we’re gonna try it out.”_

_“More like I’m gonna kick your butt!” Boscha elbowed Skara, who playfully shoved her away with an amused smile on her face._

_“Oh,” Amity shuffled her feet, temporarily at a loss. “Well, can I join you then?”_

_Boscha furrowed her eyebrows, and opened her mouth to respond when the sound of breaking ceramic interrupted her._

_All three witches turned towards the noise. Amity’s stomach dropped when she saw Willow at the end of the hallway, staring at her blankly, the color drained from her face. Amity instinctively took a step towards her, hand outstretched but Willow backpedaled away. She slipped and fell backwards, landing in the dirt she spilled when the potted plant fell from her arms._

_“Ow...” Willow groaned from the floor._

_Amity was ready to run over and help her up, her parents be damned - but Boscha’s loud laughter snapped her out of her thoughts._

_“What a loser!” Boscha snickered, pointing a finger at Willow. “Can’t take a step without falling over like a dillyworm.”_

_“Oh c’mon Boscha. Give her a break,” Skara grinned, resting her hand on her friend’s shoulder. “Maybe she’s practicing to play pretend later.”_

_Boscha and Skara looked at each other for a moment, and erupted in laughter. Boscha leaned into Skara, wheezing as she tried to catch her breath._

_Amity felt sick. She was frozen in place, torn between Willow and following her parents’ behest._

_Willow rose to her feet, and her eyes met Amity’s. She looked at her, as if waiting for something, anything._

_But Amity was scared._

_So, she did nothing._

_Willow’s eyes watered with unshed tears and she turned around, bolting down the corridor. Amity only watched as she disappeared from sight._

_“Hey,” Skara nudged Amity on the shoulder, jarring her out of her shock. “Weren’t you friends with her?”_

_Amity blinked. She couldn’t screw this up. Her parents would be furious. She had to think quickly. But she was used to being honest, and didn’t like Boscha and Skara at all._

_So, she decided to play pretend._

_“Who?” Amity asked. “Half-a-Witch Willow? Please.”_

_Skara raised an eyebrow, and opened her mouth as if to ask again - but Boscha spoke first._

_“Half-a-Witch Willow! That’s a good one!” She gave Amity an appraising look. “Huh, I guess you’re not as lame as I thought.”_

_Boscha glanced at Skara and nodded at her. All traces of confusion left Skara’s face and she turned to Amity with a smirk._

_“You can join us after school. Bring snacks,” She crossed her arms. “And don’t be late.”_

_“Okay!” Amity felt relieved she hadn’t bungled her chance. “Sounds good! Thanks!”_

_Boscha and Skara waved goodbye, and walked down the hallway towards the cafeteria. As soon as they rounded the corner, Amity’s smile dropped. She stared at the mess left in the middle of the corridor, pulling uncomfortably at her collar._

_“I’m sorry,” She whispered, blinking back the tears that gathered at the corner of her eyes. “I’m so sorry Willow.”_

_For better or for worse, Amity’s apology was heard by no one save herself._

_She spared one more look at the broken ceramic and turned away. Amity closed her eyes and took a shuddering breath, fighting back the mounting guilt that bubbled in her chest. She felt herself begin to hyperventilate, but like a guiding light in the dark, her mother’s mantra came to her - voice solid and firm. Amity anchored herself to it._

**_Tears are for the weak. You must be strong._ **

_She flexed her hands, taking steadying breaths until she felt ready to open her eyes. When she did, pools of amber met mismatched gray tiles, long dulled by years of wearing down. Amity pushed away all thoughts of what once was, her face set in stone as she exited the hallway._

\---- ---- ----

The sound of Skara tearing gift wrapping brought Amity back to reality.

“Oh my stars!” Skara squealed, hugging the new music album close. “Bo! This is incredible! Thank you so much!”

“Aw shucks,” Bo waved a hand. “It wasn’t much. I know how much you love _The Curse_.”

Amity was silently glad she ended up not buying the album after all. It would have been mortifying to give Skara the same thing as Bo. 

Amity had missed the first gift Skara opened, but she didn’t find herself caring all too much. The faster this was all over, the sooner she returned to Blight Manor and shut herself inside her room.

She crossed her arms and shifted her weight, her heels digging into her shoes. She was glad she opted for dress shoes rather than heels, but her toes were still pinched. Amity watched as Skara’s eyes roamed the small mountain of presents, and wasn’t surprised when the next gift she chose was her own.

Skara opened the wrapping with a well practiced motion, setting it aside on the table to be thrown away later, and her eyes widened when opened the box and saw the scroll inside. She carefully picked it up, rubbing a thumb over the seal emblazoned with a harp. Skara was uncharacteristically silent, which made Amity extremely uncomfortable. 

Had she erred in her choice of a present? Did Skara hate it? Would she call her out in front of everyone, and humiliate her? What would she do then? And how would her parents react?

Before Amity’s thoughts could spiral further, Skara finally found her voice as she broke the seal and read the scroll. 

“This is... nice,” Her voice was withdrawn and low. “Thank you.”

Skara barely spared her a glance as she moved onto the next gift. But when their eyes met, albeit briefly, the Bard witch looked exhausted. Almost haunted. And Amity felt as if she’d been slapped across the face. Because it was the same look she saw reflected across her own face when she looked in the mirror at the end of a long day.

Maybe she had more in common with Skara than she initially thought.

Whispers erupted around her, and Amity felt a growing sense of unease. Clearly, something about the scroll rattled Skara - though she wasn’t sure what. Maybe-

Wait.

Why did she even care? It’s not like she was particularly close with Skara. Even though Skara viewed them as such, Amity never forgot how she was forced to become her friend. And while Skara had become less mean over the years, thanks to befriending people other than Boscha, it wasn’t as if Amity actually _liked_ her or anything.

Her entire presence here was out of obligation. Nothing else.

“Boscha... how did you even get these?” Skara asked, completely starstruck as she held two tickets in her hand. “This concert for _The Pixies_ sold out within seconds three months ago.”

Boscha shrugged, trying to play it off, but Amity could see a smirk forming at the corner of her mouth.

“I know a guy.”

Amity raised an eyebrow.

Last week she saw Boscha corner a Bard track student and shove him into a locker, telling him to _“Hand it over or else.”_

Amity hadn’t thought much of it at the time. It was a familiar scene, one she was used to. But now, well. It wasn’t difficult for her to put two and two together. 

“Well I love it! I’ve been wanting to see them perform with _The Rolling Bones_ for ages!” Skara tucked the tickets back into the bag, and smiled. “Thank you!” 

Boscha grunted and leaned back against the wall, but Amity could tell she was pleased by Skara’s reaction by the way her third eye lingered on the Bard witch, even as the other two looked away.

The final gift Skara picked out was messily wrapped, with blue polka dots on red paper. Skara seemed nervous to open it. Amity’s eyes scanned the crowd, trying to pick out who it was from, and found Chadley leaning forward in anticipation as Skara finally opened the present.

It was a band poster of _Griffin’s Breath_. The poster was enchanted with Illusion magic so that the griffin’s wings flapped in the background, buffeting a wind that ruffled the band members’ clothes and hairs as they posed for the shot. 

Amity could see the delighted glimmer in Skara’s eyes, her hands wrinkling the ends of the poster as she brought it closer to her face. She placed the poster on the table and gave Chadley a shy smile.

“This is lovely,” She wrung her hands together, an uncharacteristic motion for the normally extroverted witch. “Would... Would you like to accompany me for the first waltz of the night?”

A few witches cooed, making the Bard witch blush. Chadley grinned and nodded. He offered Skara his elbow, which she took as they walked off to the dance floor. Skara made a motion to the DJ, and seconds later orchestrated music filled the room. Amity caught Boscha looking at where Skara had begun dancing, her face pinched in- was that anger? 

_Interesting._

Boscha’s jealousy ran deeper than Amity thought. 

Amity was about to go find a seat to resume her mindless social media scrolling when a hand clamped down on her shoulder. She flinched, and was ready to swing at whoever had invaded her personal space as she turned around and laid eyes on the witch who had disturbed her.

But she found herself holding back as she recognized Prudelphina Phrenemay, the newfound bane of her existence. Prudelphina tilted her head and gave her a lazy smile as she squeezed Amity’s shoulder.

“Y’know, I can see me in your future.”

_Titan spare me._

“Get it, cause I’m in the Oracle track?” Prudelphina chuckled as she released her hold on Amity, and folded her arms with a smug look on her face. “Wanna dance, Blight?”

Amity wasn’t sure where this unfounded confidence had come from, but regardless she was filled with a sense of satisfaction at the prospect of smoothly rejecting the witch in front of her.

But before she could, another witch shouldered their way in front of Prudelphina. It was the same bumbling dolt from last year, Harry Eldritch. He was dressed in a white suit and black tie, hair slicked back in a way Amity couldn’t help but find utterly obnoxious.

“Beat it Delphi,” He scowled at her before flashing a smile at Amity. “Ms. Blight owes me a long overdue dance.”

“Oh please, she rejected you last year,” Prudelphina shot back. “In this very room, which ended with you running away like a frightened dormouse. Ring any bells? Or are you just that dense?”

Prudelphina and Harry began bickering loudly, which drew the attention of several witches who had yet to make it onto the dance floor. Amity felt dread rise in her throat. The last thing she needed was another _scene_ for her mother to forever hold against her. As her mind raced, trying to piece together what step to take next, an unlikely savior came to the rescue.

“Unfortunately for the two of you, Amity has promised the first waltz for me,” Boscha stepped alongside Amity, her face drawn in determination as she stared down the baffled witches. “Run along now, before my patience wears thin.”

To hammer the point in, Boscha drew a spell circle and white hot flames erupted at her fingertips. Prudelphina and Harry gulped and stepped back in sync. Everyone knew not to mess with Boscha. Her parents let her do whatever she wanted, so she acted unchecked, free to wreak havoc where she saw fit - within reason of course. 

Prudelphina and Harry scrambled to get away before Boscha could set their clothes on fire. Amity heard one last exchange between them before they were out of earshot.

“Next time, don’t get in my way.”

“They’re lesbians, Harold. You never stood a chance.”

Amity faced Boscha, her lips drawn in a thin line.

“That was entirely unnecessary,” She crossed her arms. “I did not need, nor did I ask for your help.”

Boscha gave her a disbelieving look.

“Sure, and I don’t have three eyes,” She retorted before extending her hand, foot tapping impatiently against the floor. “C’mon. Everyone’s watching. Let’s give ‘em a show so I can go home.”

As badly as Amity wanted to bat away her hand and leave on the spot, she had the tact to know when to yield. So, she held her tongue and accepted Boscha’s hand. The crowd of witches that had gathered to watch the debacle quickly dispersed as Boscha led Amity to the dance floor.

“You owe me one, Blight.”

“I don’t owe you shit.” 

Boscha grumbled some unsavory words under her breath, but didn’t say anything else.

They reached the dance floor and faced each other as Amity dropped her hand from Boscha’s.

“I’ll lead,” They said in unison.

What ensued was an intense staring contest, ended by a matter of fact statement from Amity.

“I’ve seen you crush Skara’s toes enough times to know that you have as much grace as a newborn chupacabra,” She stepped close to Boscha. “I’m leading.”

To her surprise, Boscha didn’t protest as Amity placed a hand on her waist and clasped her hand firmly. Amity began their dance with a step forward, and then to the side. Her movements were automatic. There was no need to recite the _one, two three_ rhythm because she had practiced the waltz for hours on end, balancing a book on top of her head as her mother called out corrections in an icy tone.

As they moved along the dance floor, Amity found herself ruminating on Boscha’s uncharacteristic behavior. She almost always put up a fight - especially when she was likely to lose - just to save face in a convoluted sort of reasoning that only made sense to her. Amity tilted her head and noticed Boscha’s eyes trained on something across the room. There was a frown on her face, and she looked troubled. The next time they turned, Amity found what Boscha had been looking at. 

It was Skara and Chadley. Chadley was far more graceful than Amity ever expected, and led Skara across the floor in smooth, practiced steps. It took a moment, but it all finally clicked.

“You like her, don’t you?” 

Boscha slipped, her foot shooting out in between Amity’s legs. She would’ve fallen on her ass if it weren’t for Amity anticipating the stumble and dipping her to catch her before she hit the floor. Amity looked down at the Potions witch, and knew she was right by the way Boscha averted her eyes. Amity hummed thoughtfully as she pulled Boscha back up, and resumed their waltz.

“I’m surprised I didn’t realize it sooner. You have been terribly obvious about it.”

“Shut up,” Boscha replied in a bitter tone. “It’s none of your business.”

Amity decided to cut her some slack, only because Boscha _had_ been rather helpful with diffusing the unruly situation earlier. Not that she’d ever admit it.

Speaking of...

“Why did you step in earlier?” Amity asked, not really expecting an answer. Boscha usually answered to no one, unless it suited her.

Boscha looked away from Skara and met her eyes with a steady gaze. There was something there - something obscured, that Amity couldn’t quite decipher. 

“I- I don’t know,” Boscha’s ears twitched, which was one of her tells for lying. “Gerald-”

“Harold,” Amity corrected.

“Gerald’s such a pain during our Potions class,” Boscha continued, ignoring her. “Always kissing up to the teacher, with that prissy little voice that grates on my ears.”

“So you wanted to teach him a lesson?”

“Not just him,” Boscha made a dismissive noise. “Prudy tried to hit on Skara after you scared her away. I hexed her fizzy juice, but that only made her more stupid.”

“Well, that explains why she approached me again,” Amity sighed. “Thanks for that.”

“It’s not my fault the hex amplified her inability to take a hint.”

“But you still hexed her.”

“She deserved it.”

Amity relented, knowing that there was no winning an argument when Boscha was like this. They continued dancing, the song coming to an end. Before it did, Boscha managed to dig a heel into her left foot. Amity bit her tongue to prevent herself from letting loose a string of profanities. She glanced up, and saw Boscha distracted, staring at Skara again. Her irritation rose to the fore as her foot throbbed. She was paying the price for Boscha’s useless pining.

_Enough._

Amity spun Boscha, and then swept her into another dip, holding it for an extended moment.

“Keep your eyes on me, or I’ll drop you right now.”

All three of Boscha’s eyes blinked at her, slightly out of focus. Amity smirked.

The song came to an end, and she pulled Boscha back up. She released her hold on her and stepped back, smoothing over the wrinkles in her suit. Amity turned, blowing a strand of hair out of her face as she readjusted her cufflinks.

“Next time, watch where you step,” She called over her shoulder as she walked away.

Amity missed the way Boscha stared blankly at her until she was out of sight.

\---- ---- ----

“Birthdays and birthday parties will come and go. But the way you all make me feel and the priceless memories we’ve made today will forever stay in my heart. Thank you for coming!”

Amity wrinkled her nose as Skara’s long-winded speech finally came to an end. The Bard witch’s voice had been saccharinely sweet, to an unnerving degree. 

True to Amity’s foresight, Skara ended up playing everyone a piece from the grand piano as the final song of the night. The Jubals came down from upstairs to watch as Skara performed. Amity didn’t miss the way Skara tensed when she saw her father enter the room, relaxing only slightly when she saw her mother follow him in. 

Amity always thought the Jubals were far more lenient with Skara than her own parents, but perhaps something had changed. Something had to explain why Skara looked... not herself when she opened the scroll Amity had gifted her. Amity watched as Skara moved through the departing crowd of witches, towards the table stocked with refreshments. 

Before Skara could serve herself some of the hexed fizzy juice, Boscha swooped in out of nowhere and snatched her hand back. The triclops pulled her close, murmuring something in her ear, and Skara’s eyes widened. She wrenched her hand away from Boscha’s grasp and gave her a hurt look. Boscha seemed to fumble for what to say, and to Amity’s shock - Skara didn’t want to hear any of it. 

Skara replied briskly to Boscha, and judging by the way the triclops flinched, whatever she had said hit home. Skara rolled her eyes and stormed off, cutting across the room to none other than Chadley. She tapped him on the shoulder and asked him something. Chadley nodded, and Skara smiled softly at him. 

Amity’s eyes wandered back to Boscha, curious to see how she was faring. But she was nowhere to be found. 

Amity pinched the bridge of her nose in irritation. If things were now awkward between Skara and Boscha, her social life would become more of a living hell than it already was. 

She pulled out her pocket watch and checked the time. It was 9:45PM. Her parents would be expecting her soon. Deciding to push all thoughts of potential witch drama to the side for now, Amity departed from Jubal Manor. 

\---- ---- ----

“How was the party, dear?” Odalia asked as Amity stepped through the door.

Amity shut the front door, and faced her mother. Odalia was perched on the edge of an armchair, fingers laced together as she gave Amity a calculating look. Amity was careful to keep her tone neutral as she spoke. 

“It went well. Skara unveiled my gift and seemed to like it,” Amity crossed her arms behind her back, resisting the urge to nervously tap her foot. “I danced with Boscha, and Skara played a score on the piano for the final song of the night.”

“How quaint,” Odalia replied, mind already elsewhere as she sipped a cup of tea. “Off to bed now.”

Amity nodded, and moved past her mother down the hallway. Her father was absent, but that was nothing new. He was likely already in bed to rise early for work in the morning. The stairs creaked under her feet as she made her way to her bedroom. She passed by portraits of long dead relatives, feeling their eyes on her as she walked through the Manor.

Amity released a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding the moment she closed the door, leaning back against it as her eyes slipped shut. The day had been awfully draining, as per usual. She looked to her desk, and contemplated writing a diary entry before bed, but decided she was too tired and resolved to do so in the morning. 

Amity changed into her nightwear, washed off her makeup in the bathroom, and pulled her hair out of its ponytail, carding her fingers through green strands as she moved to stand in front of her mirror. There were dark circles under her eyes, and her mouth was downturned.

The party was... not fun. She never expected it to be enjoyable, but she still found herself slightly aggravated by how poorly it had gone. First, Prudelphina tried to make a move on her, as if she would ever entertain the thought of spending time with someone as shallow as her (No, Boscha didn’t count. Amity had no say in befriending her). Then, Skara didn’t like her gift. In fact, the present seemed to alarm her. And Amity shouldn’t care how Skara felt, after all they weren’t friends, not really. But she found herself thinking about it anyway, because the look that had passed over the Bard witch’s face had been all too familiar.

After that, Harry returned at the worst moment possible, nearly causing a scene when Delphina tried to drag her out onto the dance floor. While Boscha had helped smoothe over the situation before things could take a turn for the worse, Amity was _worried_ (and could scarcely believe it) about what happened between Boscha and Skara. Not because she was concerned over their wellbeing as individual people, but what it would mean for her social life.

She had little say over her social life to begin with. So she was extremely invested in managing and controlling what she could. But Amity had no idea what she would do if she was forced to pick a side between Skara and Boscha due to their... disagreement? Potential falling out? Both of their families worked closely with her parents, and her parents would most surely scold her for not being able to maintain good relations with both witches.

Amity rubbed her temples as she felt her head begin to pound. Maybe she was overthinking this. Skara and Boscha had been friends for years. She’d never seen them fight like she had at the party, but their friendship had a strong foundation. It would weather the storm.

Well, it had to. Otherwise Amity was screwed. 

She didn’t know what to do when her _friends_ were at odds with each other. She hadn’t had a real friend in ages, not since _her_.

Amity found her eyes drifting over to the silver picture frame set on her dresser. She walked over, peering down down at the photo of herself and Willow. Young and carefree, without a worry in the world. She picked up the frame and examined it, memories from years ago rising to the surface.

\---- ---- ----

_“Willow, this is a bad idea! ” Amity protested as they ducked behind a fallen log. “What if we get caught?”_

_Willow laughed, wrapping an arm around Amity as they sat on the sand, looking out onto the clear purple waters of Lake Lacuna._

_“Ami, don’t worry about it!” Willow gave her shoulder a comforting squeeze, and Amity felt herself relax instantaneously. “Coach Kaine is too busy wrangling the water abominations. He’ll never realize we’re gone!”_

_“But-”_

_“Amity,” Willow took her free hand in hers. “Remember my catchphrase? The one that’s never failed us until now?”_

_Amity’s eyes softened, and she nodded._

_“Out of sight, out of mind,” Willow said, resting her forehead against Amity’s._

_Amity giggled, and Willow beamed at her as she leaned back._

_“Now you say it!”_

_Amity smiled, and opened her mouth to speak._

\---- ---- ----

“Out of sight, out of mind,” She whispered, tears falling and distorting the faded photograph. 

Amity wiped them away with her sleeve, and placed the picture frame back onto the dresser. She looked at the memory for a long moment, her vision blurring at the edges. She gingerly picked it up, and angled the frame so that it was facing away, towards the wall. Amity shuffled over to her bed, sliding in and shutting off the lights with a twirl of her finger. 

She stared up at the rafters, each breath more shallow than the last. Any attempt to suppress the anguish she felt in vain. Instead, she curled up in a ball, face buried in her hands. But even that wasn't enough to suppress the sobs, hard and fast, which burst from her chest. 

No matter how much she pulled them up around herself, the thick bed sheets did nothing to ward away the cold. Another sob wracked her frame, and she shoved her fist into her mouth in an attempt to stifle the sound.

Emotions made one susceptible to harm, and prone to getting hurt. Amity knew that for a fact. It had been drilled into her for years, and proved true time and time again. First when her siblings distanced themselves from her. Again when her parents’ suffocating expectations of her grew more and more unreasonable. Cutting Willow out of her life had been the final blow that shattered her heart. 

Emotions made one weak. 

But that didn’t mean she didn’t have any.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Parts 1 and 2 of this series are a bit melancholy, but they provide a good look into Luz and Amity's frame of mind before their relationship is explored in Part 3. I encourage y'all to check them out!
> 
> Check out [Sadmity](https://twitter.com/woozywonder/status/1356673479064629248) here. Also, this is the beginning of my skarscha brain rot, stay tuned for more in my future works ;)
> 
> FYI: in EPs 15 and 18 we see a backwards facing picture frame on Amity's dresser. I headcanon it as the one seen in the fic. I remembered Willow's 'out of sight, out of mind' mantra from canon and I really wanted to subvert it because it works so well for Amity. And the mantra having such innocent origins makes it all the more tragic when it's used in the fic, and when we remember Willow saying it in canon.
> 
> Follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/godless_glasses), [tumblr](https://lexa-alycia.tumblr.com), [instagram](https://www.instagram.com/godless.glasses/)


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